Age is But a Number
by krista12
Summary: A series of times the various people thought (or were led to believe) that Robin was older than he really is. Then again, they probably wouldn't have believed the truth either.


Age is But a Number ~ Dick Grayson

Summary: A series of times the various people thought (or were led to believe) that Robin was older than he really is. Then again, they probably wouldn't have believed the truth either.

1) Haly's Circus was loud and dirty, Bruce Wayne decided. He wondered why on earth Alfred's idea of a day off for Bruce was seeing the visiting circus, but we wouldn't argue with the old butler. Besides, this could present some ideas for acrobatics and accuracy training.

The smell of garbage, popcorn, and peanuts filled the air, leaving the stench of circus animals paling in comparison. The colors were overly bright and cheerful despite more than a few stains on everything. The circus was not overly disgusting, but nor was it someplace Bruce would take pleasure in inhabiting. Despite having seen up-close the various disgusting cracks and corners in Gotham City as his alter-ego Batman, Bruce found something oddly disgusting in the circus's unkempt appearance. Perhaps he'd been acting as Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy idiot, for too long. Bruce took a calming breath as he entered the main tent.

The ground had been heavily trampled, probably by the elephant Bruce had caught sight of earlier. Trapezes hung from the improvised "ceiling" and rafters. There was a group of clowns chattering away in the corner, readying themselves for the performance in ten minutes. Posters clung to the red and white cloth comprising the circus's version of walls. People dropped their trash where they stood or sat, adding to the mess already there. Bruce pulled up the hood of his casual sweatshirt so no one would recognize him just in case.

The noise increased. "Five minutes left!" Someone shouted. The clowns shuffled out of sight and Bruce looked to where the trapeze act- _The Flying Graysons_ a poster announced- would occur. Three figures climbed up the thin ladder; a man, woman, and a child no older than ten. Shouldn't there be a law against that? Child labor or something? The lights flashed and Bruce tensed for half a second before realizing that was _supposed_ to happen. Maybe Alfred was right and he did need a break.

"Welcome ladies and gentleman to Haly's famous international traveling circus! For our first act..." Bruce glanced at the clowns that had re-entered the arena then toward the knife-thrower who quickly set up on the other end. Bruce kept his eyes on the knife-thrower and how he took one practice shot to get ready. When it was his turn, the man faked a few shots to get the audience worried for the small monkey resting against the board, but the man quickly outlined the monkey in small throwing knives. Gasps and laughter followed as the monkey leapt off the board to join the knife-thrower and took a small knife from the man's hand, walking over to the board and sticking it in himself. The man bowed and exited.

"And now for the famous trapeze act, the Flying Graysons, joined for the first time by their son, Dick!" The crowd roared and Bruce focused carefully on the act. That double-looped flip-

The rope snapped. Bruce blinked, sure he'd seen things. They'd announced the group was so confident they didn't need a net and wouldn't they test it-?

Bruce leapt to his feet with many of the other circus-goers as the Grayson elders fell, screaming to their son who screamed as well.

This wasn't part of the act.

"My Robin!"

"Mama! Tati!" The boy had tears streaming down his face before the two even hit the ground with sickening thumps. The boy cried alone on the trapeze platform, stories above his parents' broken bodies.

"Nooooooooo..." The broken cry went unheard as the circus folk rushed to the bodies or ordered the visitors out of the large tent, promising refunds. Someone called the Gotham police.

The broken boy (how could this be the same boy who'd been smiling with his entire being only five minutes before?) climbed down the ladder alone. He muffled his cries with his arm, but he used the other to shove past the crowd towards his parents. Mr. Haly saw the boy and rushed him away, claiming,

"You don't need to see this, Dick. I'm so so sorry, you poor boy..." But Bruce knew the boy didn't want condolences, he just wanted his parents.

_His whole world_. Bruce didn't know how, but when he saw the boy's glistening blue eyes, wet with tears, he saw himself reflected, just for a second.

But it was enough.

"No other relatives..." Someone muttered.

"Orphanage..."

"... Us? No, we're not-"

Bruce watched from the shadows as Mr. Haly walked the boy out of the tent and into the cool night air. Bruce followed, curious and something else he couldn't point. Pity? No. Sadness? Empathy? Pain? Perhaps a convoluted combination thereof.

Bruce heard as Mr. Haly tried to prepare the young Grayson for what he would face. The police would take him to child services...

'Not for long.' Bruce decided. Bruce didn't know what came over him, but as he looked at the shoulders (not hunched over, Bruce noted), he thought he saw something of... Not an equal of course, but something close to it.

Bruce stepped out of the shadows.

Bruce used his knowledge of the police force to nudge them in the right direction, leave a few hints here and there...

The boy, Dick, was strong, Bruce realized, talking to the boy privately. Bruce didn't wear his usual mask of stupidity as he whispered softly.

Richard "Dick" John Grayson also assessed Bruce Wayne. He'd heard of the man in passing, but he'd never expected to see the man at a circus and in a sweatshirt and he'd seen-

No, he couldn't say it.

The man's eyes were sorta nice, but he saw something broken in them. He didn't see pity or apathy. Bruce explained that he'd seen his parents die in front of him too. He'd gone off, traveled for a long while to find himself a few years later. He explained he had a butler- who was more of a uncle or grandfather- and would Dick like to stay with him until they could find someone to adopt Dick?

Dick couldn't find the words to speak for a while. He was using one syllable words or moving his head to answer and Bruce couldn't blame him. Bruce asked some questions to distract the kid, handing him the large sweatshirt he'd been wearing.

"So how old are you, Richard?" Dick hesitated- hardly half a second, but enough of a tell-

"Eleven, sir." He said in accented English. The accent sounded gypsy in origin, but it had come out less as the two talked and Dick stopped crying. Bruce knew Dick had lied, but he didn't know why. Bruce nodded and didn't comment, hesitantly resting a hand on Dick's lithe shoulder.

"You don't have to call me 'sir.' You can call me Bruce if you want." Dick gave a half smile and Bruce noted the tears from earlier had finally dried when Officer Gordon gave Bruce permission to take the kid in for the next week or two.

It took six days for Dick to realize something was off and another two of watching carefully and prodding Alfred for Dick to realize what he thought was the cause. It was insane, absolutely insane, but his life had never been normal. That his current caregiver was the notorious legend, _urban myth_ Batman didn't get much of a reaction from Dick. He'd only be staying for a few more days anyway, right? Still, he didn't know how to react so he kept quiet.

"Master Dick?" Alfred called from the door of his room. _Master_. No, he was just Dick, please just call him Dick, _please_. Master stirred some form of permanence in him that his parents were dea- and he wasn't special or rich, he was just some kid B- Mr. Wayne sympathized with, not-

"Yes, Alfred? And it's just Dick, not Master please." Alfred didn't comment on the title, instead he said,

"Master Wayne wishes to speak to you in his office." Dick sighed and thanked Alfred getting out of bed. He liked Alfred, but it was only for a few more days before he'd be shipped to an orphanage to be adopted and who'd want him? But-

Dick walked toward Bruce's office. 'How should one act around Batman? Don't piss him off obviously, but oh god, he'd _lied to Batman's face_-'

Dick knocked.

"Come in." Dick stood in the doorway. 'He's gonna kick me out now-

"Have a seat." Bruce said and Dick fidgeted as he sat in the stiff seat. He wanted to leap around the room, flipping around, walking in handstands because that's what he'd always done before- but he shouldn't. This was Batman- _Bruce_ was _Batman_ (he almost couldn't believe it and he didn't have proof, but he was sure-)

"Yes, sir?" Dick said, breaking the silence. Bruce was scrutinizing the boy and Dick lifted his shoulders to stare Bruce in the eyes. 'I'm gonna go out with dignity at least-' Bruce looked confused for a millisecond, but Dick had long ago learned the nuances of subtlety and body language and what did _that_ _mean_?

"I called Detec- sorry, Commissioner Gordon and child services." Dick tried to keep his breath level. He'd known it was coming, he'd _known_, but he'll miss Alfred's cooking and his hugs and Bruce's hand on his shoulder in silent understanding-

"If you want-" 'Will I get to pick which orphanage or is it foster parents?-

"I've offered to adopt you as my ward. Now, you don't have a birth certificate so-" Dick's mind momentarily stuttered to a stop. But-

"Si- Mr. Way- uh, Bruce, how- you- but how would you have enough time?" Dick's eyes wondered to his hands in his lap. He wished he had somewhere to do a handstand right now because he needed to move, be fluid, movement was _life_-

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick saw Bruce cock his head to the side, fake smile suddenly adorning his face- no, it's not real, it isn't because now Dick knows- he knows- and now he can see the mask for what it was. Batman wasn't his only mask.

"I assure you, Wayne Enterprises doesn't take up all of my time-"

"Not that." Dick said shortly, glancing into Bruce's eyes. He shouldn't make him angry, Dick knew, he shouldn't have said that, but he needed-

"Then what do you mean?" Dick stared for a long time into Bruce's eyes as his hands clenched around the chair's arms, clutching them because if he couldn't move, he had to do _something_, he had to leave, now.

Bruce's face looped through several emotions so quickly Dick thought he's imagined them for a moment, but Dick knew.

"How could you possibly-?" Dick interrupted, his already still tumultuous emotions forcing him to do something.

"I was thinking how strange it was that the infamous Bruce Wayne visited the circus in a sweatshirt without calling any attention to himself. It didn't fit the Bruce Wayne mask. So I wondered if you had other masks. And then two days ago you came here and I saw Alfred sew up your arm when they reported the news about Batman-"

Dick's body vibrated with the need to move, but Bruce had stilled entirely. Dick cut his explanation short and stared longingly at the open door. He could go out the door and if Bruce tried to attack him, he could jump out the window; it was only the second story and Dick knew how to roll with it and not get hurt. He wouldn't be able to tell Alfred goodbye (why did that sting?), but he could run. He could go to Star City or he could go to Mr. Haly for a few days. He could-

Bruce twitched and Dick stiffened in his seat, prepared to run. Why did he have to say that? Bruce's look turned to a thoughtful frown. Was he debating how to kill Dick? Should he just run now?

"You knew for two days. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why would I? There's a popular phrase, 'I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you' and I really hope you don't kill me now. I'm just a kid, no one would believe me anyway-" Alfred had walked up to the open door and quickly figured out what was going on.

"Clearly, he has potential, Master Bruce. Perhaps, the adoption would be a grand idea-"

"Alfred," Bruce growled, "I know what you think I'm thinking, but-"

Dick looked between the two in confusion. It took him another few precious seconds of listening to the now hushed conversation to key in to some of the points the two were making.

"So can I see the Bat stuff? Is it a cave? Bats live in caves." Bruce sighed and Alfred hid a grin.

Richard John Grayson, age eleven, born March 21, was officially adopted as ward to billionaire Bruce Wayne on April 24, 2002. Bruce forged Dick's birth certificate and trained Dick in self-defense in case someone tried to kidnap him for his relation to Bruce Wayne. What Dick hadn't expected was the sudden fame that came with being adopted by Bruce. He was equally surprised Bruce didn't call him out on the lie about his age. He's only just turned eight, but he was now "eleven and small for his age."

Self-defense lessons quickly turned into actual teaching since Dick knew about Batman and had endless questions.

Sometime around July, the identity Robin (it was his mother's name for him after all) was born as protégé to Batman. Of course, he was equally as much of an urban legend.

Dick was okay with that.

2) Having been publicly adopted in April, Dick had the summer to learn enough to catch up to being "eleven" at school. Dick ended up being a science and math (especially math) whiz. He excelled at school if he was at all interested; of course, the threat of not being Robin counted under "interest."

When May, June, and then July passed, Dick prepared for the inevitable; Bruce had signed him up for Gotham Middle School. Dick had actually placed in seventh grade with advanced math and science classes. Still, Dick had never gone to school and despite everyone thinking he was going to be two years younger, he'd be _five_ years younger and _that_ was almost more intimidating than the thought of facing the Joker on his own. Not quite, but close.

"You'll do fine." Bruce said as Dick walked through the school doors for his first day. No, he wouldn't be fine, he was about to have a panic attack. He was just the gypsy freak, not aristocratic, not born to money (but could he fake it? That was to be seen.). No way could he make friends. Nope. _Five years._

Bruce collected Dick's schedule with that idiotic smile that screamed 'I'm an airhead, help me out a bit? Haha,' and Dick swallowed. Dick looked at the schedule and his nerves were so bad, he'd already learned the schematics for the school so he knew where these rooms were and-

"Richard? I've called a fellow student of yours to show you around. She's also skipped a grade. Her name is Barbara; just ask her anything and she'll answer as best she can." Dick gave the principal a fake smile and leaned half an inch back toward Bruce before he realized what he was doing. He wished Alfred was here to tell him it'd be okay.

The door opened and a blond girl stepped into the office, braces glinting in the harsh light.

"Hi, you must be Richard." The girl said, immediately extending her hand to Dick.

"Hi." Dick repeated. "And uh, you can just call me Dick. You're Barbara, right?" He said, knowing the answer but asking anyway.

"Oh yes." She flushed. "I probably should have started with that. Barbara Gordon, at your service. So what's your first class?" Bruce stayed behind to talk to the principal while Barbara and Dick walked around the school, finding each class easily. Dick felt like he was going to throw up, but he'd faced much worse as Robin, the Boy Wonder, so he'd freakin make it.

He _so_ wasn't feeling the aster.

Barbara was nice and didn't ask too many deep questions, preferring "What's your favorite color? Favorite type of music? How old are you?"

Dick was half-surprised how easily the lie about his age rolled off his tongue.

"Eleven." Dick replied.

"Ooh, I'm older than you then!" Barbara said, but didn't add anything else.

Dick learned quickly that rich kids tended to be snobs, but Barbara was really nice and so were a few of the other students and Dick felt like he might actually have made friends. He wondered, very briefly, if they'd still like him if they knew he was only eight. He tried not to flinch at the thought of losing the first non-adult friends he'd made.

3) Commissioner Gordon was one of the only honest cops in Gotham City. He supported Batman almost-entirely, but even he thought that this was absurd.

The boy was tiny in a brightly colored outfit that made Gordon question how Batman let the kid get away with it. That was the problem actually; it was a _kid_. Not even sixteen or seventeen, but an actual kid. So Batman had a son?

"Commissioner." Batman growled, not to intimidate the officer, but to get his attention.

"Allow me to introduce my protégé, Robin." The kid smiled dazzlingly and Gordon had a moment of questioning if the kid wanted to disguise his voice.

"Hello, Commissioner." The boy said politely, standing to the side of- and just behind- Batman.

"You... a kid?! Are you freakin kidding me? He's not even old enough to drive and you expect him to fight crime? This, _this, _is the sidekick everyone's been going on about?" Robin's smile disappeared and was replaced with a scowl.

"He's not a sidekick." Batman stated. Robin glared at his shoes. Everyone thought he was a sidekick, but he was _protégé, _as in he'd probably end up replacing Batman. He wasn't a freakin sidekick.

"He's done just fine on his own. I'm teaching him." Batman growled and Robin had enough experience with the growl to tell that his mentor was becoming agitated.

"He's what? Thirteen? He can't-"

"I can handle myself, thanks." Robin said, allowing some acid to seep into his voice. Gordon glanced at the boy who'd now taken a defensive position subconsciously. He saw a flash of what made it possible for Batman _not_ to have killed the youngster. Robin glanced over at the seven thugs tied up across the rooftop as one of them shifted in unconsciousness. Gordon turned back to Batman.

"Why would you let a kid join you? He can't be much older than my Babs-" Robin picked up on the reference to Barbara, but hid any reaction he might have had.

"He's old enough."

"What's old enough then?"

"Old enough." Batman growled, repeating his earlier statement. Tensions rose. Gordon stared back at the young boy, trying not to flinch under Batman's glare, and looked.

He had black hair and was short. His voice wasn't particularly masculine. Maybe he hadn't even hit puberty yet. The area around his eyes was shielded with a domino mask that had little reflective lenses where the boy's eyes would be. He looked far, far too young for this. The yellow cape, red and green suit, and R sewn into a patch on the uniform only heightened the feelings of _wrong, too young, bad_ that Gordon had.

Gordon glanced back at Batman again. He sighed.

"Look, I- I've trusted your judgement so far. You've been right most of the time, just... he's a kid. Don't make me regret this." Gordon said, shaking his head. He walked to the thugs and took out his police radio.

"We've got a 10-19 on the roof of the old Malcolm Warehouse, seven armed thugs..."

Batman signaled to Robin and the two shot off their grapples, swinging and disappearing into the night.

4) Robin didn't become public knowledge- or even much of an urban legend- until after several superheroes had come out as having sidekicks. The Green Arrow had Artemis; Supermanhad a younger _clone _named Superboy_; _the Flash had his nephew Kid Flash (he'll grow to hate that name, Dick's sure); Martian Manhunter had his niece Miss Martian; even Aquaman had his sidekick Aqualad. Originally, Green Arrow's sidekick was Speedy but something happened and... well, he sorta quit after eight months and Green Arrow took in Artemis instead.

Robin was unknown until Batman _allowed_ him to be known. Robin was "thirteen" when he was allowed to be known, but since there had been legends beforehand, Batman confirmed to the Justice League that yes, Robin had been on the scene before any of the other sidekicks. The 'so _ha_' went unsaid.

Dick thought it was absolutely hilarious that even the supers on the team didn't know that Batman was Bruce Wayne. He figured it might have something to do with the fact that Batman lined his mask with lead as a precaution. Besides, not that many people are stupid enough to try to mess with _Batman_.

With two years of being Robin under his belt, Dick Grayson was lithe and had finally grown a few inches, making him around 4'11", just enough to make his age lie be totally believable. Bruce never brought it up. Robin wasn't as infamous as Batman; he wasn't as dark or sadistic, but he had a cackle that made villains want to wet themselves. Robin- despite the color scheme- blended into the shadows as easily as his mentor, embracing them whole-heartedly as his own. Robin had something of an affair with gravity; sometimes he abode her rules and other times, he stayed just out of her grasp, enough that more than one of Gotham's many villains was convinced he was actually a super.

Within the Justice League, Robin was still vastly unknown; Batman confirmed he existed once the rumor actually escaped Gotham but was not forthcoming with details. Then Superman had proposed the idea of a younger team, "Young Justice," for lesser missions since the Justice League wasn't always able to take out each threat.

Robin hadn't seen the team idea coming, but he shouldn't have been surprised in hind-sight. Dick listened in through Bruce's comm (and Bruce _had_ to know it was on, but he'd never said anything which Dick took as permission and pride in his hacking skills) as Superman detailed the concept.

The members, should they accept, would be Aqualad, Superboy, Artemis, and Kid Flash, and Miss Martian. Batman suggested adding Robin to the team.

For the first few moments, there was silence. Dick tried to make sure he'd heard that correctly and mentally asked Bruce, 'what are you doing?!'.

"Isn't Robin mostly a hero of his own right?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Mostly. That's why he'd make a good asset to the team. Besides, he needs to learn about teamwork." Dick politely didn't text Bruce about the hypocrisy of that statement. He glared at his monitor instead.

"Besides, he could teach the team stealth. None of the other members would be very good at that." Batman added.

"You think he should be leader." Superman said, somewhat accusingly.

"No, actually. I want him to have some experience. It could be for a few months or so. He doesn't have to be leader." Dick raised an eyebrow from the Bat Cave.

"We don't even know if the kids would agree to this. We'll ask them first and see what happens."

The kids had said yes. (The group hadn't even bothered asking Red Arrow- he was sorting some things out as it was.)

The Justice League, except for Batman, had never seen Robin before. In early May, Robin was brought to Justice League's earthy headquarters. Robin had already learned how to navigate the place by memory without having been there before. Furthermore, he knew where the air ducts were so he could get around without anyone- except maybe Superman- being any the wiser. Bruce would know though; he almost always did.

Still, knowing where everything was, even seeing videos from security feed, weren't enough to keep Robin from being nervous. Once again, even at age "thirteen" (and wow, it'd been over _two years_ of being Robin), Robin would be the youngest one there. Artemis, Wally, and Kaldur were fifteen; Superboy was technically about to turn two, but _still_; Miss Martian was fourteen and would turn fifteen soon.

Robin was thirteen. This felt like starting school all over again.

Robin took a deep breath and followed Batman into the Zeta-Tubes to take them to Mount Justice. The place truly was amazing and Dick wondered if any of the other protégés had been here before. They probably had. Dick's mask was firmly in place, but Dick had known for quite a while now that Artemis Crock- Green Arrow's sidekick Artemis- went to his school and there was a slim chance she'd recognize him. Then again, she pretends to live in Central City rather than Gotham so maybe not.

Batman was two steps ahead of Robin and swiftly entered the room, a computerized voice announcing "02 Batman" followed by "B01 Robin." Robin tried not to show any emotion as the room- occupied already by Black Canary, Green Arrow, Superman, Flash, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter- turned to face him. The other proposed members of the Team weren't in the room. The group stared at Robin in shock- he was tiny and young; they didn't seem to remember he'd been on the job longer than the others and had Batman for a mentor. Batman was assaulted with questions and Robin waited patiently by his side. Eventually, the arguing stopped and the Justice League were frowning and resigned, while Dick knew Bruce would be grinning beneath the cowl. Kid Flash zoomed into the room at high-speed, not noticing Robin as he turned to the Flash.

"Hey, Uncle Barry, could you tell me-" Kid Flash turned to see what everyone was looking at. Robin stared at the room at large, tilting his head slightly at Kid Flash's appearance. The kid was fast, Robin'd give him that, and dressed even flashier than Robin. The red and yellow of his suit showed brightly and Robin raised an eyebrow as Kid Flash hesitated. Kid Flash ran to Robin (who didn't even flinch).

"Hiya, you must be Robin. I'm Wally, Kid Flash. Nice to meet you. How old are you? So what's your superpower, I heard you had one?" Robin waited for the questions to stop.

"Yeah, I'm Robin. It's nice to meet you too and I'm fully human. No powers." Wally looked at the slightly shorter guy and frowned. Robin didn't answer the age question; Wally didn't seem to notice.

"I told you my name." He pouted. Wally didn't mention his age or bring up the question again, though Robin knew Wally was fifteen. The Justice League still stared.

"Sorry." Robin said, glancing at Batman who watched with the rest of the room. He didn't know how to respond to this and Batman didn't help any. Kid Flash sighed.

"It's fine. I should have known since you trained under Batman. Do you know where the kitchen is?" Wally rattled off.

"Down the hall, second door on your left." Robin calmly repeated. Kid Flash disappeared in a blur of red with a muffled, "thanks!"

Batman returned to Robin's side and put a hand on his shoulder, leading him to the training room where the kids were waiting. Everyone was there, even Wally who now had a large sandwich in hand. They looked up as a good portion of the Justice League walked into the room with Robin. Batman nudged Robin to stand with the others.

They were going to start with a training exercise to see if the team had any hopes of working together as a unit like the Justice League did.

Batman gave a curt nod. Dick knew that meant 'prove yourself and give 'em hell.' Robin smirked and joined the chaos.

The improvised team did their best, mostly failing against the present members of the Justice League. Only Batman dared to take on Robin after Superman got his ass handed to him. Robin lost, _barely_.

He made the team and Kaldur- Aqualad- would be made temporary leader since Robin opted out ahead of time. Young Justice started taking on missions in late August.

If the team happened to believe that Robin was in the range of fourteen-fifteen, he wouldn't dissuade them of the idea. It preserved his identity.

5) It made sense that the Justice League would think even Batman would have enough sense to get a protégé that had already started hitting puberty. They'd assumed, before meeting him, that Robin was seventeen or eighteen. It was much easier to assume that Robin was _just_ past puberty and small for his age that it was to deal with the emotional fallout of asking how old Robin actually was. No one asked so neither Robin or Batman felt the need to tell them.

Of course, they'd questioned to themselves, how old Robin was. But he had to be fourteen at _least-_ his stunt's were amazing, his intelligence on-par with Batman, and he could beat the rest of the Team easily. No, he had to be older than fourteen, surely. Maybe sixteen and just small for his age. Even still, some of them wondered if Robin wasn't a meta, but Batman and Robin assured everyone that they were just humans. Awesome humans, but still humans. So as the Justice League continued observing Robin, they grew even more sure that he was older than the rest of his team; it made sense.

No one really asked out loud though. Maybe they figured Robin was self-conscious about being small with his age. Perhaps they had fooled themselves or said 'it doesn't matter.' The Justice League made assumptions and Bruce laughed to himself. The boots that added two inches to Dick's height were enough to fool the Justice League. He really should have trained them better than that.

Even Dick knew what the League thought of his age. The Team probably thought the same thing. So when training went by age, Dick always lined up in the front as oldest even though he wasn't. Another layer to his disguise; they'd never peg him as little ten year old circus performer Dick Grayson or even thirteen year old Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's ward. It helped keep Dick and Bruce safe, so he wouldn't complain. Plus the Team looked up to him. He wasn't ready to let them down.

6) Robin's motorcycle was not new. He'd had it for a while and even had more than one fake ID for it under the name Dick Grayson and under the name Robin. The latter was more for a laugh than anything else, but Gotham had a law; one has to be fourteen to have a motorcycle license. To the world, Dick Grayson was indeed fourteen. Only, young Justice seemed to be under the impression you had to be sixteen to operate any form of vehicle.

"Cool bike, dude!" Wally shouted, running over to Robin. Dick was in civilian clothes, but he wore dark sunglasses to hide his eyes. He tried not to show annoyance at Wally's appearance; he'd been hoping to go to the garage in peace; he thought the muffler might be having issues, but-

Wally's exclamation had caught the attention of Superboy, Artemis, and even Roy (who used to be Speedy then took the mantle Red Arrow) who was visiting. The group came over to see the motorcycle and Robin sighed almost silently. Superboy hesitated a moment, but soon joined the others.

"Whoa, what's it like to drive a motorcycle?" Artemis said, reaching as if to rest her fingers on the handle. Robin coughed pointedly and Artemis withdrew her hand.

"It's nice. It's... fast. Not a lot of wind protection."

"How long have you had 'er?" Roy asked.

"It looks new." Robin smiled to himself.

"I've had it for a while now; Batman taught me how to take care of it." Roy looked jealously at the bike. Superboy was trying to figure out what the bike was made for while Dick tried to continue rolling it toward the garage, but his entourage followed him.

"That's so cool! I still have to wait another month before I can get my license, but I have my permit!" Wally said ecstatically.

"Oh yeah, your birthday's coming up..." Robin thought for a moment. Had Wally not known that one only had to be fourteen for a motorcycle license? On second thought, that was probably a good thing. Wally would be a traffic hazard on a motorcycle, trying to go top speed.

"Yeah, maybe I should ask Uncle Barry for a motorcycle instead of a car. Then again, I don't think he's planning to get me a car, something about 'you can run around the world in less than half an hour' blah blah blah. All I heard was 'I'm too lazy. You're too awesome for a car anyway.'" Robin, Roy (who was now going by the name Red Arrow since he didn't want to be known as a sidekick), and Superboy all snorted quietly. Wally was infamous for only hearing what he wanted.

"What about you, Robin? Is your birthday soon?"

"You're a few months late, KF."

"Well how old are you now? Seventeen? Sixteen?" Robin stared at Wally in shock for a minute. How on _earth_-?

"Can't tell you; Batman's orders." That was mostly true at least. Wally pouted, trying to pull the puppy eyes but failing miserably as his stomach let out a loud growl.

"I'm off to the kitchen. See ya!" Wally left and Superboy leaned closer to the bike. He wouldn't touch it, but he seemed fascinated by the glossy black paint. Artemis was staring at the bike as well, looking between it and Robin with sad eyes. Saving Robin from any other awkwardness, his communicator beeped. Robin turned slightly and held his wrist-computer away from prying eyes.

'Penguin by the docks. Want to have some fun?' Bruce's message read. Dick grinned and apologized to his friends.

"Sorry, guys. Got a mission." Dick hurriedly rushed the bike into the garage and took off toward the Zeta-Tubes. Robin didn't like being reminded of his age, but taunting Penguin seemed like relatively good compensation. Still, Dick wondered how on earth anyone could think that he was so much older than he was. He didn't really look it, even with his latest growth spurt. Sure he could pull awesome tricks, but that was because he grew up with it, not because he was a teenager or something. Still, sometimes it made him laugh that he was so much younger than everyone else and no one knew it.

7) Apparently Wally wasn't quite ready to give the birthday subject a rest. He'd called up _Batman_ to ask about Robin's birthday. Batman being Batman considered it a security breech and refused point-blank to tell him. Eventually, he was so annoyed with Kid Flash that he just said (read: growled), "March." Not knowing what day in March, though he assumed Batman wasn't lying about the March thing, KF set up a party for exactly mid-March so he'd be fairly close. KF and the rest of the team weren't very... well, to put it simply, they sucked at planning surprise parties. Parties they could do; the surprise part... They were working on it.

Regardless, Dick wasn't the least bit surprised when KF randomly cozied up to Robin one day when they didn't have a mission and acted all nice. Robin saw right through it, of course, but he decided to indulge his friend.

"So, Rob. How are you?" Robin half-smirked.

"Fine. What about you, KF?" Wally looked momentarily annoyed at having the conversation turned back on him, though it was only to be expected.

"Fine, fine. Good. So. Your birthday. Sometime later this year. Probably soon." Robin tried not to break character and cackle.

"Mhmm." KF suddenly leaned down to look Robin in the mask, something akin to... hero-worship or some form of it. It was... disturbing pointed toward Robin.

"Are you gonna be seventeen or eighteen? And if you're turning eighteen- actually what do eighteen year olds do for birthdays? I mean, even if Bats let you go to a club or something for a beer you're still pretty short though I know my Aunt Iris had a growth spurt when she hit twenty so I'm sure you'll still grow some more, but anyway, how're you gonna celebrate? Ooh, is Agent A gonna fix you some of those cookies, because I swear to God, I'll murder you if you don't get me one and is it true you guys have an honest-to-God Batdog because you'll never hear the end of it from me and Bats-" Robin interrupted the long-winded tirade and coughed, giving Wally a look. A look Wally was fairly familiar with.

"He's right behind me isn't he?" Wally dared not turn around. Instead, black entered his peripheral vision and a gravelly voice called into his ear.

"Boo."

Wally screamed like a little girl.

8) At times, Dick almost tricks himself that this is normal; that he's actually as young as he tells people he is. The team, school, everyone... even himself. But there are times, rare though they are, that Dick suddenly feels so young and lost and confused and he can't take it, why'd they have to die, why was _he_ out protecting Gotham, why'd he lie to his friends every_ damn day_-

Sometimes it all got too much. When the walls suddenly felt like they were caving in and there wasn't enough air to breathe, someone showed up. Sometimes it was Bruce if he wasn't patrolling or asleep or at work, but usually it was Alfred with a fresh plate of chocolate chip cookies as if he knew this would happen and maybe Alfred was a meta after all, huh-

And Dick would look around the room. Alfred would calmly repeat to him the day as if he didn't know it (sometimes he didn't), that he was safe (was he?), that Alfred would stay there until Dick fell asleep (would he? Could he ever go back to sleep?). Alfred would hold him close, and Dick let Alfred's words wash over him. He rarely paid attention to what the butler was saying, trying to calm his own breathing and viciously wipe away the tears, but the butler's voice was soothing and the warmth made him feel like this, this right here, was _home _and it was almost too good to believe it but for just a few minutes he let himself be a kid again and he snuggled into Alfred's warmth until the bad was gone and he was safe again and he was _okay and-_

And Dick Grayson was asleep. By morning, Robin was reborn again from the ashes. But they were always connected and always would be, age be damned.

And wasn't it just the best thing that Alfred agreed about the age thing because he was _never_ giving up Alfred's chocolate chip cookies. Alfred smiled down at the slumbering boy somberly and pet the man's hair. Sometimes he didn't know which to call the young master, but it didn't matter, not really. No matter the boy's age or name, he'd always be the one that Master Bruce took in and cared for and nurtured (with Alfred's help) and Alfred would _always_ be proud of his little bird.

- Hi, so I haven't written anything for in years and I deleted all my old stuff, so here I am. New start, new fandom. This has been basically sitting on my computer for three or four months so I feel like I should publish something on here after so long. So yeah. ~Ash


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